Justified or Just Obscene
by funanyaTHEmute
Summary: -One-Shot- Wammy's House was made to replace L; that was it's purpose. We all knew that, understanding and accepting it as our destiny. At least until the time came when it actually needed to be done. Hints of Mello/OC, mainly Near/OC


**Justified or Just Obscene**

Nate "Near" River One-Shot

* * *

"I mean it this time, Marsh, just leave me the hell alone already!"

I scowled, glaring with inky eyes towards the slightly older male.

"No! Come play with me, Mello!"

The blonde grit his teeth, sparing a moment to shoot a prematurely malicious glare towards his chortling best friend. Matt didn't even bother to look up from the game console, fiddling away on the buttons of his controller and grinning widely at the eaves-dropped conversation. Mello snorted moodily, rounding his hard eyes to my pouting form.

"No."

"Yes!" I countered in a demanding yell, the stubbornness of my seven years in full effect. Mello, then nearly nine, showed no more maturity then I did, frowning right back.

"No way! Now get lost and go play your Barbie's with some of the other little girls."

"But you're way better and more fun than any of them! You only make a big deal out of playing when you're around everybody else," I complained, not knowing why Matt had fallen out of his chair in hysterical laughter. What was so funny?

Mello's gray eyes darkened like a thunder cloud, the flush in his cheeks making him look like the Jenny doll he had often used when we would partake in the debated activity. I beamed, totally oblivious to the fury of his stare as I pulled the particular toy from my bag, holding it out with a grin

"See! You even look just like her! Oh, oh!! Mello, would you _please _let me dress you up again!? Remember the last time!? Wasn't that so much fun!? We can use Jenny as a model this time and take pictures! You guys'll be just like twins!!" I squealed, clutching my hands in joy and twirling on the spot at the very thought. It was true - both with short, bowl-ish cut blond hair, blue-gray eyes and thin, lean frames, I was just sure that Gymnast Jenny and Mello would be mirror images. Like sisters!

I didn't think Matt was breathing any more. I blinked, frowning down at his fallen body throwing a fit on the floor. He had even dropped his gameboy - a sure sign that something was definitely wrong.

"Marsh," Mello growled, redirecting my attention from the convulsing red-head to him. I nearly shivered at his intensity, soon after disregarding the feeling. Mello had told me to never let anything the other kids did or said to me get to me - they were all just 'jealous bastards.' I didn't know what the word 'bastard' meant, but if it was coming from Mello I would believe any of it.

"Marsh, go away right now and don't talk to me again until I say you can, got it?" he seethed, using the same tone as he did when he was beating up the bullies. I bit my lip, looking up at him with wide, tearing eyes. I held back a smile, sensing his anger faltering almost immediately.

"But Mello! You and me have to stay together forever! You're the reason I picked my name out!"

I saw his eyes widen, teeth grinding behind his thin lips as he shook his head furiously. "Marsh, don't you dare!"

"Don't you remember? I met you when I first got to Wammy's. You were the first kid I saw when you came in screaming at Roger," I reminded, not getting why he was so insistent on stopping my words. If I didn't understand, I was just going to keep going. "Roger tried introducing us and told me your name was Mello, and I wanted to be friends, so I picked out the name Marsh. That way, we're a team - Marsh and Mello! We go together. Marsh-Mello! Stick like a marshmallow, right!?"

Mello's hands had curled into fists, cheeks bright red and eyes blazing - probably to keep from crying. I smiled lightly, knowing that for such a tough guy, Mello was actually one of the most caring and protective people I had ever come across. He was my best friend, for always, even if he didn't act like it all the time. I figured he just got embarrassed when the other people were around 'cause he didn't want them to know we were so close. I couldn't blame him, because I didn't want the other children at Wammy's to know that I had caught cooties from him once.

I startled, a withering form curling up at my feet distracting Mello and I's bonding. I was seriously concerned now, lost as to why Matt was having such a hard time taking in air.

"Huh? Matt? Are you oka- hey!! Mello! Le'go!!"

I fought futilely against his harsh grip, knowing his hold wouldn't be ridden of until he had dragged me off to where ever it was he wanted to go. I was no match for Mello - he was just too much bigger and stronger than I was. His feet slapped against the ground, stomping loudly against the wood flooring of a familiar hallway. The sound contrasted against the squeaking slide of my heels digging into the ground in his wake, pulling back in an attempt to be freed and making the task only slightly more difficult for him.

"Mello, c'mon! Where are you taking me!? I can just walk!! Mello!"

He jerked me forward with a hearty tug, making me stumble and slam into his boney back. He hands dug into my collar bone a second later, pushing me away and holding me steady before him.

"Marsh," he began, eyes nothing more than glowing orbs the width of a toothpick. "Stay away from me!"

And with that he slammed the door to his right open, throwing me into the room before crashing the entrance closed. I fell, tripping over my own feet and tumbling belly-down with a painful smack. I lied frozen for a moment, the burning on my skin from the impact welling tears up in my eyes. Stupid Mello! He was so temperamental. He would come back for me, I just knew it. He'd get angry and do something like this, but once we had both calmed down he would come waltzing back after me and sauntering on like nothing had ever happened in the first place. Whether he liked it or not, Mello and I were family. Not those kinds of families you read about in books of watch on television, but the real kind - the ones that didn't have the same mom and dad. Mello and I were siblings just because I had said so, and I think that made it even better than being forced together by blood. Me and Mello were inseparable.

I grunted lightly, moaning as I pulled myself up onto my knees. I cradled my stomach in one arm, massaging the pain away in willing motions. My neck cracked, eyes flickering open and gazing around the room in interest. It was rather small and empty, the walls barren and dark. I faced forward, lowering my eyes to an even level. A brow rose, finding action figures scattered across the floor, tussled around curiously. A pile of puzzle pieces lay beside a half-finished portrait, a boy curled up before the picture.

I flinched back, instantly concluding that this form was a ghost. He couldn't be alive, there was no way - he was so pale and lifeless looking! Even his hair was a solid white mass mopped atop his head. I couldn't fight off a ghost! They were transparent and already dead! Invincible! It must have been a child that had passed away in Wammy's - probably in the middle of the night, considering his attire of faded gray pajamas and bare feet. Maybe he would be a friendly spirit, like Casper! We could even play together! If I had met this boy first instead of Mello, I would have given myself the name Wendy, so we could be just like Casper and Wendy. Best friends.

Still trembling slightly, I inched forward in a cautious crawl, afraid he would suddenly disappear or try to frighten me away. I kept my gaze locked on the imprint of his dull eyes, circular black orbs reminding me of an owl. I reached the opposite edge of his puzzle board, leaning back to sit on my knees and not braking the connection between us. Neither of us blinked, me too afraid he wouldn't still be there when I opened my eyes and he most likely unable to. He wouldn't of had a use for the action anyway. Now that I was up closer, he looked to be more normal than I had ever expected a ghost to be. I could see the depth of his skin, not at all see-through, and the particles of his hair glinting in the very limited lighting. He reached up a hand, still without the slightest shift of his wide-eyes, and entangled a finger in the thick silvery locks. I watched in peripheral vision as he tied knots, hand bending and twisting extraordinarily human-esquely.

"Hi," I uttered in a shaking whisper, hoping the sudden noise wouldn't cause him to bolt straight through the wall. And then it happened: he blinked. I startled, not making any sense of the function. Why on earth would a ghost blink?

"Hello," he answered back, much to my delight. His voice wasn't echoing as I had pictured it to in my mind. It carried through the air naturally, the deep but prepubescent tones vibrating gently against my ear drum. I welcomed him with a smile, letting go of the fact that his soul had retained all human instincts and glad to have found a new friend.

"Please leave. I'm rather busy."

My jaw relaxed into a drop, slacking at his blunt words. Had he just told me to go away? The ghost boy was kicking me out... by asking?

I tilted my head, lips turning downward. "But Mello put me in here. I have to stay until he comes back for me, or else he won't know where I am and can't find me!"

I didn't care if this was the ghost's room - I was still alive and had all rights to the building. It was a public playroom, after all. I was just the only living body in it.

He answered with a second blink, throwing me off even more. I had begun to think I had simply imagined the motion, but having visualized it incorrectly twice? Not likely. I turned my nose to the floor, skimming across the puzzle separating us. It was a kitten, it looked like. I didn't like kittens when they had only half of a head and were missing a paw.

I chose my course of action, quickly devoting myself to the task of giving the calico cat a proper appearance. The boy would remain ignored until he learned how to play nice, I resolved. It was decided.

I remained fully aware of his scrutinizing gaze in the seven minutes it took me to complete the picture. Never once had his eyes drifted, watching me captiously as I worked. The boy was strange, I had thought. So empty. I supposed that was the ways of the dead, having nothing to live for.

I grinned with accomplishment as I looked down at the finalized portrait, proud of the no longer decapitated cat. I switched my eyes upwards, swiftly growing bored with the silence. I would let the rude behavior off the hook for now - he was deceased, after all: a valid excuse. Besides, I was here sitting with a ghost! Who else had ever had the experience? I had to milk it for all it was worth and satisfy my curiosity.

"I'm Marsh," I declared, nodding with determination. The boy's soul would play along and answer if he knew what was good for him.

His intense gaze never loosened, leaving me to wonder if he had heard me at all. Could ghosts turn their ears on and off? Was he able to decide what he wanted the see or hear?

"Near," he answered ambiguously after a moment, tone dead. I was baffled. What did 'near' mean? He wanted me to come closer, maybe?

I leaned in, nearly clambering over the puzzle as I increased our proximity and decrease our distance. I halted a pencil's length away from his face, expression focused. This was a rather odd and difficult position to hold, after all. The moments passed in silence, everything still.

"What are you doing?" he spoke dully, breath strangely warm against my cheeks. I tweaked my brow, sucking on my lower lip in concentration. He was looking at me like I had just asked him to lick the floor. Why? Perhaps I had misinterpreted his words?

I took in a deep breath, suddenly nervous with our closeness. "You said near, didn't you? You meant to come closer, right?"

His emotion mirrored that of the wooden wall behind him. "Near is my name."

I almost blushed, embarrassed over the blunder. I covered it up expertly, clicking my tongue. "Well, Near is a stupid name. You should have introduced yourself properly if you didn't want me to get confused. Near is a word, not a name."

I was delighted as his eyebrow rose, the first sign of personality since our meeting. "Marsh is a low wet land. Not a typical name, although its yours. Correct?"

I smirked, proud that he was sticking up for himself without being so robotic. Ghost or not, Near was definitely peculiar. It was the same intrigue that had sparked me with Mello. The personality clash comparing the two was wonderful.

"I like you, Near," I admitted with confidence. He barely reacted at all, no sense of feeling crossing his façade. "I think we should -"

"Hey, Marsh! Let's go. What do you think you're doing just -" Mello cut off, starring transfixed at Near and I. I guess he had never seen a ghost either. His abrupt entrance had startled me, jumping forward the slightest bit. I turned my head, grinning widely towards the older boy without altering my position. The two had to meet - Mello and Near would become best friends! I just knew it.

"Mello! This is my new friend, Near. He has a weird name, but so do me and you so it's okay! He's a -"

And one again my speech was cut off, this time by Mello's actions rather than words. The shock on his face vanished in an instant, loathing and rage replacing it at a pin drop. He stomped forward, pulling at my shirt collar and dragging my straight to the threshold, away from Near. I clawed at his hands with a wail, barely noticing when he had stopped dragging me and paused in the doorway to glare lividly back at the pale spirit.

"Don't you ever come near her again, you got that Near? She's my friend and way to good for a big-headed twit like you."

And with that he departed, pulling me along the floor as he made his way down the hall. I eventually gave up on trying to be released, letting him forcefully slide me along and only hoping not the get and splinters. Mello could be so mean sometimes! He had no right to judge Near like that just because he wasn't alive.

The pair of us reached one of the recreation rooms, Matt the only other inhabitant lounging in one of the chairs hard at work with his gaming device. He didn't acknowledge us in the least as I was plopped down, Mello rounding on me with harsh eyes and setting his hands to his scrawny waist.

"What the hell were you doing with that kid, Marsh!?"

I frowned, rubbing my bottom irritably. "You can't hate him just because he's dead, Mello! If you just got to know him he's a really cool!"

Mello's face drifted, jaw opening and eyes narrowing. Soon enough he seemed to place the meaning of my advice, sneering angrily.

"Marsh, you idiot!! Near isn't a ghost! How could you think something so stupid!? He's just a freak!"

I was flabbergasted. Not a ghost? So then, he was just a secluded boy? A real, living one? Uh-oh...

Mello continued with his rant, each sentence more enraged than the next. "I never want to see you with him again, you hear me!? He's not the kind of person I want to rub off on you. Don't feel bad for him or start to like him. I can't believe you were almost kissing him! If you want to kiss anybody, make sure it's Matt or me, since we're your friends. Stay away from that kid Near, he's bad news..."

He continued on, my mind blocking his repetitive debate out. What did he mean by kissing? I wasn't trying to kiss Near! Gross! The only person I would probably ever kiss would be Mello, so he didn't have anything to worry about. I didn't even know Near - I thought he was some kind of ghoul. But still, the fact that I would never get to know him was discouraging. He really had been an interesting person I would have enjoyed hanging around, but I wouldn't dare go against Mello and get him mad. He knew what was best for me.

"...got it?" Mellow finished finally, pulling in air. I looked up, snapping back to reality with a nod.

"Got it," I confirmed. I had barely heard a word he had said, actually. Mello sighed, running a hand through his hair before plopping down on the couch. He really shouldn't let himself get so worked up and stressed out over meaningless things. But that was Mello, take it or leave it.

I huddled on the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest in brooding. What a strange day this turned out to be. Life at Wammy's was nothing close to normal, you had to admit. I didn't think I'd change it for the world, though. I like to think of us like my favorite Christmas special, Rudolph, told it: We were all just a bunch of misfits, but that's why we fit in.

A high-pitched tone of a video game broke in, the tune one of victory. Matt yawned, turning the machine off and tossing it to the side. He looked up, smirking smugly and deciding to only now join into the exchange.

"So, who's kissing who?"

* * *

That was seven years ago, to the day. I still remember it clearly, even at fourteen years old. The day I had met Near.

I hadn't listened to Mello, as it turns out. I held fast for quite some time, avoiding the small, dark room where I had seen my first ghost. My only ghost.

I remained out of contact with Near for a good eighteen months, always pausing to gaze at his door when passing. But I never went in, of course. Just a fleeting moment of remembrance before I hurried off to Mello and Matt. It wasn't until one particularly stormy English day when Mello was overtaken with the flu and confined to bed that Near and I crossed paths again. Matt wasn't very much fun at all, always playing his video games with undivided attention. I decided to go exploring and found myself standing before a familiar door frame.

That meeting marked the day that I had officially pulled myself from under Mello's rule - secretly. I snuck off whenever he wasn't looking (distracted with beating up other boys or throwing a fit), scurrying stealthily and joining the pajama-clad boy. Our routine wasn't exactly the same relaxed and friendly atmosphere I shared with Mello and Matt; Near, as I found, wasn't like them in the least. He answered my insistent inquires (mostly out of courtesy than interest, I now figured), but was careful to never express any of his own personal feelings, if he happened to have any (I doubted it sometimes). I found out about his life, his past, but not him as a being. What went on in his brain whenever he reminisced? There was never the slightest trace of any biased emotion as he talked. He was from Thailand, he had told me, forced away as the sole survivor of a destructive disease and cared for directly by L. The tale fascinated me beyond reason, probably one of the main causes of my continuous visits. The boy who had actually met L - face to face. L was our hero, our God. The man we were all destined to live up to, quite literally. My questions were endless. I was at a loss as to how Near couldn't have been awed by L like all the rest of us.

Near, the aloof shadow. No matter what truth, he would always remain a ghost in my eyes: transparent. Everything that should have been there in a normal human composition was fuzzed, blurred into distortion. An echo of something a human should be. There in physical matter, but innards an unknown land. I simply couldn't and wouldn't ever understand the workings of his mind, or the entire lack of pathos in his every action. Mysterious. Monotonous. Detached. Level-headed. Cheeky. Near was the silent observer, taking careful circumspect and remaining outwardly indiscriminate to all. I would never admit it aloud, but Near was almost exactly as I had pictured our saviour L.

Mello had always been so perfectly easy to read - he layed his motives out on the table for all to see. Mello was impulsive, easy to anger, and cocky. He protected his friends above all else, above himself. Fiercely loyal with his heart in the right place, but rarely showing sentimentality. He was so misunderstood, but I saw straight through it. A heart of gold, but a body of steal. I had sworn as a child that Mello and I would remain together for as long as fate let us, and still vowed to keep that promise. He had turned out to be the first and only boy I had ever kissed, the only person I would gladly trade my life for.

He ruined that. He had left, without a word at all. No goodbye, no reason. But he was gone, and that was that.

I couldn't believe I was crying over him.

It almost made me sick, this pathetic scene. Curled up, alone in my bedroom, staring out the rain streaked window. I wished the water drops were simply rain sliding down the glass and altering my reflexion. Really, what would Mello say if he could see me now? _'Stop being such a baby,' _I saw him demanding. He would probably stand there, scowling, and bulldoze forward until I was within reach. He would yank me up and, depending on his mood, either present me with a brief, crushing, hugging grip or give me a forceful kick out the door to get my mind off of whatever was bothering me. The chance was fifty-fifty, most likely a combination of the two. Momentary embrace followed by charge. That was just Mello's style.

Knowing him so well, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised at all by his abrupt departure. Prolonged, fickle goodbyes wouldn't have been very appealing to him. He must have been on a mission - something bigger than the bonds that held fast between us. He was doing something good, something that was for my own good to keep me well and safe. It was always something good to look after me. Maybe he wouldn't go about it the right way and get himself into more trouble than he needed, but if Mello played fair it just wouldn't be him. Or rather, this _was_ fair play, by Mello's judgement. I would be even more disappointed if it were any other way. If we had exchanged farewells, it would imply that that he wasn't coming back. I should be happy, because I knew this meant it wasn't desertion. He was only looking out for me. Keeping me out of it until he had won and come back to explain it all to a silly little girl. Mello was so complex, and so simple. I understood his every quirk before even he realized it. I loved him for that.

But I wish I didn't. I wouldn't be here now, mourning and wallowing like some heartbroken, abandoned orphan. I had grown past that stage a long time ago. We all had. We all had to. The world was far too vile and merciless to coo over childish sentiments. There was work to be done in sanctioning this hell, and we were the ones to do it. It was our purpose. The young people or Wammy's House were designed for the justice of this poisoned Earth. It's exactly how I knew what Mello was doing. So easy to figure out. Mello would be out there in the real world, unsheltered by aegis walls and innocent play. He was going after evil, just like L. Our nonfiction superhero. And that, too, meant only one thing.

L was dead. Kira had conquered this time. Won the battle, but he would lose the war. At least, I hoped so. The only thing I had left was faith in the ones I loved. It couldn't always be good enough, but it was better than nothing at all. I could pray for him and hope for his triumph. That was all I had to offer. Why Mello left me behind. It was infuriating. Forever inferior.

Sitting there, chin tucked between my cradled knees, I brooded for an entire day, thinking over every possible thought that could have ever crossed the biological software of my mind. Everything was carefully considered before passing to be replaced with the next theory, that too moving on and being taken over. It was hours since he had vanished from his bedroom. Six and a half since I had first wombed myself in this precise spot. And the day was spent. Darkness overtook the tearful sky and night comforted the weak. It was the end of this day, the demise of November 5, 2004. The last of L. The mark of the next generation's conquest.

And all I could do was sit here and wait for the outcome. Helpless.

* * *

Near's arrival came in a parallel form of his existence: a stealthy shadow, never thoroughly figured but always there. He hadn't made a sound, but I felt his presence as soon as he has stepped in. I was both comforted and annoyed with the company.

"Do you need something, Praai?" (1)

My voice was worse than I had thought, but I wasn't bothered by the moot fact. It could crack, rasp, and hoarse all it wanted, but Mello wouldn't be brought back. Wrong wouldn't be righted.

I felt his shuffle, body slithering close while still managing a decent distance. I heard the infinitesimal sound of him plopping to the floor, never the type to stand upwards for longer than necessary. I sensed no confusion from the alias I had referred to him with. It was expected and understood.

"No, not at all," he professed easily, tone as airy and uncaringly smart as ever. We relapsed into a still silence, liquid drops panging the glass our only exchange. I hated that he had come here to look after me - that was Mello's job. Never Near. Near didn't ever show his care. What was wrong with him now? What the hell was he doing?

An unknown sense of choleric filled me. I suddenly realized how Mello must have felt every time he was with Near. Strange, how I had never noticed the feeling of consummated annoyance associated with this ghostly boy. Near had always been somewhat amusing to me - never irritating. I had criticized Mello's intense and instant rage as a burning jealous (he had always been second best, only to Near.) It was all so clear now; the vexatious mannerism suddenly so blatant. Why had I never seen? Never felt it? Damn, it was just driving me crazy now! So obvious and imperious. Why was Near here - why Near and not Mello? Near was number one! Why hadn't he left and Mello stayed?

As if sensing my mental train of thought, Near filled in the blanks with supercilious melancholy.

"L is dead. Roger called a meeting for Mello and I to pass the news on and discus our next course of action. We were to work together on the Kira case and bring justice to L's death."

It was all he needed to say - I could configure the rest. Mello would rather die by Kira's hands than share the glory of the murderer's downfall with Near. Mello's reaction was so anticipated. It made sense. I wondered if I had even run across his mind as he packed his bags and ran away. Probably not, as much as I hoped it would have. There were more important things for him to dwell on and worry about than me. It was all that I could ask of him to forget and erase me from his mind, focusing only on keeping his life and defeating his enemy. I wasn't selfish - I knew what was more important than any individuals' feelings. We were young; too young to know what we did. Older than children, but still too young for such straight forward honesty explaining the secular happenings taking place. The mundane minds of the Earth's contrasting people were too far beyond our comprehension.

How had things ended up this way? Why -_how_- had L died? We were still only kids! We shouldn't be the ones to be going through all of this now. There were others: trained adults with college certifications and government issued power. What the hell was their purpose if it just came down to a group of fostered orphans, not one of them having yet reached their fifteenth birthday? Why couldn't those men handle this themselves? Where was justice?

"Is Mello ever coming back, Praai?" I was desperate to keep from thinking. Talk would distract me from all of this pointless, depressing brooding.

I should have known not to venture into those waters; I would surely drown - it was one of the worst questions I could have asked. The answer was inevitable, the question driven by pure need of reassurance, even when I already knew the outcome. And what use would it do to ask Near anyway, of all people? He wouldn't sugar coat what discouraging news I had already perceived. Mello wouldn't have either, truthfully, but at least he might have been more careful with his response and given me a bite of chocolate to make up for it.

Near didn't hesitate to comply, taking the time to answer in a brisk, blunt drawl.

"No, I doubt it. Even if he were to survive his plans in capturing Kira, it's not likely that he'll ever come back to Wammy's House. He'd move on and live his life elsewhere."

I nodded numbly, stomach stoned. Near was, of course, right. Mello wasn't coming back. He would fall or overcome, but never reverse his trail. I don't even think I would be enough of a stimulant for him to return to a slummish, desolate English boarding house. It was the reality, no matter how much I hated it.

"What's wrong with this world..." I croaked in a whisper, not imploring for an answer. From how I was feeling now, I sincerely hoped that Near hadn't journeyed here for my comfort. He was miserably unsuccessful. If there were ever to be one thing Near was incapable of configuring, it was the good of other human beings. Picking out the disreputable was as easy as reading the newest newspaper and knowing proper morals, but for those who become consumed by remorse and decency - the ones that were everything a child of God should be...that would be the barricade to his perception.

And then another thought came to my mind. Another so obviously flagrant.

"You're leaving too, aren't you, Near?"

His stoic silence was enough of an answer, the atmosphere still and thick with the use of his given alias. I unmolded from my position, working muscles for the first time in nearly a day to face him.

"When?"

He looked up, having previously been fooling with a hole in his tattered sock, and caught my eyes. As always, the dull obsidian was nothing more expressive than a blob of ink on parchment.

"That much hasn't been decided yet, but fairly soon, I'd imagine."

I would give it no longer than a week before he, too, left home behind. Matt wouldn't be long to follow Mello either; that much was a given. I think then I would know how it felt to truly be lonely. The concept was pitiful - 6,602,224,175 people in the world, and yet only me standing alone. I was a child of Wammy's. Failure was unacceptable. Pity was failure. Greatness would succeed. I'd probably give Kira himself permission to spit on me if I were to remain fetal here for another moment dwelling in woe. A grand adventure hunting Kira, however -whether win or lose- was exactly what I had been raised for. My purpose.

But I hadn't been chosen to fulfill it.

"You're horrible at making me feel better, Praai."

He sighed silently, tugging on the webbings of his hair.

"That's not the point of this. I'm only making sure you realize all of what you need to."

I tore my eyes from his, staring blindly towards the blackened window, considering my approaching words carefully.

"Have you ever heard this saying, Praai: 'the more, the merrier'?"

I left barely a moment for him to respond before our gazes were pointedly reconnected through the glass reflections, fueling my continue.

"'Two heads are better than one'?"

He blinked, and I knew he understood. My body begged to crumble as I shifted, our body's mirroring. Fingers clenched as Near parted his lips.

"With Mello and myself on the case, this already makes two 'heads', as you call it. A serial killer investigation is hardly a means of merriment, either."

My stomache plunged. Was he really saying this? He was refusing my hinting request?

"...And I'm sure we both know that Matt won't be far behind, which would already give us three."

I couldn't believe it. I was so sure he would accept. He was telling me to stay? He didn't want me with him? My help wasn't good enough? The indirect 'no' had never felt so devastating. The simple blow was far more damaging than any of Mello's larger-than-life reactions had ever caused. The off-handed answer was worse than demanding yells and physical force by a ten-fold.

"But I suppose if Mello is grouped with Matt, it would only be fair for me to gain a partner as well."

The buzzing in my head silenced.

"I don't know why that wasn't one of the first things you would ask - it's mainly what I even came here for. I was hoping you'd catch on quickly and not make me spell it out for you. I didn't want to sit here chatting for long. You're really draining when you're like this."

If I hadn't been filled with euphoria, I would have kicked him in the gut. I couldn't stop it; it didn't even register when I had flung myself into his arms, literally falling right into the boy. We tumbled down, Near slamming into the floor and certainly losing his breath as I crashed atop of him. It was all I could do, holding him as close as life itself. I clung my arms around his neck, weeping with half anguish and half relief into the collar of his grayed pj's. Everything fell into circumspect. Mello was gone, and there was no silver lining to it. I could only move on, and align with Near. There were nothing alike - Near wouldn't protect and sympathize with me so emotionally as Mello. Near wasn't the type of boy to comfort me so conventionally. He was calm, cool, and collected. But he was there, and seemed to be trying well enough. I was welcomed with him, accepted and useful. He wasn't leaving me behind, whether for my own selfish good or not. And that was good enough for me.

The fleeting shiver of a hand on my spine responding to the embrace sealed the deal indefinately in my mind. We would never turn back from the long road ahead.

**

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(A/N) Wow, I'm so proud of myself for actually accomplishing a one-shot that didn't end up being so long I expanded it even more into a story :D This really just popped up out of nowhere one day, and took off from that one idea I had about a girl who names herself Marsh to become the Marsh to Mellos's marshmallow (Just a fun fact - even after 16 years, this was the first time I learned how to spell marshmallow. Who knew it wasn't really 'marshmello'?)How it morphed into a Near pairing, I have no clue. I don't even like him all that much...but I still love him some, even if less than Mello and Matt and L, if you couldn't tell. I wasn't about to leave out a LITTLE bit of Mello fluff.

**Argh, I really hate to keep rambling, but I hope I got the timelines and personalities right (Near is a hard little bugger get a hold on!). I wasn't sure, but it was too time consuming to track down the exact dates and times of everything. I hope I got their ages right. I made this so that Mello and Near found out about L dying on the same day that Light killed him. I'm really sorry if that wasn't right...**

**...I'm sort of iffey about this. It just sort of seems like there was no real developing plot line or something to me, especially at the end...maybe one-shot's just aren't my thing? Lame?**

**(1) Btw, I'd just like to mention that I don't know the Thai language. At all. The only word I do know is "**_praai_**", and only because I looked it up for the sole purpose of this fanfiction. Apparently, it means "**_ghost_**" which is rather fitting for Marsh to call Near, I'd say. He's from Thailand and she though he was a ghost. What better justification is that?**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews would be like a overly stuffed bag of Halloween candy O.o Happy Halloween, everyone!**

**Song: **Ghost **by** The Academy Is...


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